


along a long street's majestic emptiness

by gladdecease



Series: The moon is in doubt [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Possessing Claire Novak, Community: spn_30snapshots, Gen, Road Trips, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladdecease/pseuds/gladdecease
Summary: It's a fourteen hour drive to Davenport.  On the way, Castiel sleeps - and Claire wakes.
Series: The moon is in doubt [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/10702
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	along a long street's majestic emptiness

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 is not stealing my 15 year fanfic posting streak from me. It's taken a lot from me, but not that.  
> (Even if I only get the one ficlet posted, at the very last minute. It's better than nothing.)
> 
> If any new readers go back to the others works in this series after reading this one... please be kind? Most of these ficlets were written ten years ago, and it shows. (And yes, longtime readers, your eyes do not deceive you: I've changed the series title again! What can I say, I always hated title #2, and I came across a poem today that fits the Castiel vs Gender mood I want for this series pretty nicely, imo.) 
> 
> Takes place between the equivalent of "Point of No Return" and "Two Minutes to Midnight" in a Supernatural AR I'm using the 30 snapshots challenge to develop.
> 
> Title from the poem [St. Peter and the Angel](https://poets.org/poem/st-peter-and-angel), specifically the lines:
>
>> And along a long street's  
> majestic emptiness under the moon:  
> one hand on the angel's shoulder, one  
> feeling the air before him,  
> eyes open but fixed...

Jimmy glances at the GPS for the third time in the last ten minutes. Shockingly, their ETA hasn't changed: still seven hours and forty-five minutes to go. He bites back a groan. Small _wonder_ Castiel hates cars, if this is the kind of distance the Winchesters regularly drive. Not quite halfway done, moon only just set in the night sky, and he's barely keeping his eyes open... how do they do it?

He turns off the highway for gas and gas station snacks; he'd love to sit down for a real meal, maybe even sleep for a few hours, but a horseman of the Apocalypse is _not_ something you want to dawdle about. He grabs an egg sandwich and the largest coffee available, which, because this particular gas station caters to truckers, is about the size of his head. He hesitates by the refrigerated section for a moment - _human_ , does that mean Castiel needs to eat? what on _earth_ do you feed an angel? - before grabbing a bottled water, a day-old turkey club, and cup of Jello, vaguely remembering that she'd eaten that part of the hospital meal, at least.

Jimmy shoves the knock-off McMuffin in his mouth before he's even out the door, and nearly moans at how good it is to _eat_. Whether angels can go without or not, _man_ definitely needs food. And caffeine, if he's gonna get the two of them to Iowa in time for... whatever is happening.

He should... probably ask about that, at some point. But they have time, and anyway... he ducks down to check, and sure enough: Castiel is still sleeping in the passenger seat.

It's kind of bizarre, how the inhuman elements of the angel fall away when she's asleep. If Jimmy didn't know better, he'd think that was Claire drooling on the window. He'd think this was just another early morning drive, Claire getting a quick nap in on the way to school. She used to do that all the time when she was caught up in a good book, trying to hide how late she'd stayed up reading in bed, and fooling nobody. Feeling a pang of sorrow - his daughter is gone; she's here but she's _gone_ \- Jimmy sets the bag of potential foods for Castiel in her lap, starts the car, and starts driving.

Seven hours and forty minutes to go, now. Traffic must be lightening up somewhere down the road.

It's another twenty minutes before he hears the rustling of plastic. He doesn't look over - defensive driving has been the Novak way for three generations now - but he smiles a little at what he imagines is happening. An angel, squinting at a plastic-wrapped triangle of bread and meat. Prodding the gelatin with a spork skeptically. Jimmy hasn't had too many reasons to smile lately; he'll take this one gladly.

But then:

"Ew, Dad, why'd you get _red_ Jello?"

Even though the road is deserted, Jimmy nearly crashes the car, torn between instinct ( _eyes on the road, Novak!_ ) and impulse ( _my baby?_ ). He splits the difference - moves over into the slow lane so he has an excuse to look to his right, squawking out a high-pitched, "Claire??" as he does so.

She's frowning at him, a preteen moue of disgust he'd almost forgotten her face could make. "It's the _worst one_ , it tastes like cough syrup. You _know_ I hate it."

"I... do," Jimmy says, a mile later down the road. Which is true. But he hadn't been thinking of _Claire's_ tastes. "I do know that. Um, Claire, honey... where's Castiel?"

Claire frowns. "I haven't gone anywhere, Jimmy," she says, in Castiel's flat, low tones.

O... kay?

And Claire blinks, pressing a hand to her mouth, as if surprised to hear herself say that.

"Oh- _kay_!" Jimmy says brightly, trying very hard to pretend this isn't the absolute weirdest thing - well. Top Five, at least. "So what, you're... both awake in there now?"

"Shh," Claire says, eyes distant, her small hand holding Jimmy's mouth shut. "Cas is explaining what's happened." And she sits silent, unblinking, for the next ten miles.

" _Fan_ tastic," Jimmy mutters, suddenly wide awake and chugging the trucker-sized coffee anyway.

ETA: six hours, fifty minutes.

This is going to be a _long_ day.


End file.
